The River of Snowbourn
by Splendour
Summary: [short story] Beside the River of Snowbourn that runs by Edoras, young Elfhelm first beheld Éowyn riding on the vast field of the Eastfold in the sun of the midsummer with her brother. From then on he had loved her, watched her...in Edoras, on the field o
1. Chapter one: By the River of Snowbourn

The River of Snowbourn

Disclaimer: I own nothing...blah blah blah you know the drill.

Summary:

short story Beside the River of Snowbourn that runs by Edoras, young Elfhelm first beheld Éowyn riding on the vast field of the Eastfold in the sun of the mid-summer with her brother. From then on he had loved her, watched her...in Edoras, on the field of Pelennor...

Author's Note: First attempt on Fanfic for years...and first attempt on LOTR...hope you'd like this short story. Short chapters, and there's only going to be three. AU for I ignored the fact that Émound died when Éomer was eleven and Éowyn was seven. I don't plan to write long stories until time permits and I get a proper story line...Please R&R!

Chapter One: By the River of Snowbourn

"_Very fair was her face, and her long hair was like a river of gold._

_Slender and tall she was in her white robe girt with silver;_

_but strong she seemed and stern as steel, a daughter of kings._

_Thus Aragorn for the first time in the full light of day beheld Éowyn, Lady of Rohan,_

_and thought her fair, fair and cold, like a morning of pale spring that is not yet come to womanhood."_

--The Two Towers

The sun cast its rays on young Elfhelm's face. He looked up and smiled. Too long had he last seen the field of Eastfold and ride on it. It was a great plain, Elfhelm could see the distant river of Snowbourn flowing to join to the great Entwash. The sunshine was dancing on the water waves, from far away it looked like a river of gold.

He rode straight on to Snowbourn, not knowing why. He has had a day of riding of course, but he was barely sweating. As one who would one day become one of the greatest Marshals of the Riddermark, he was already outranking some of the older Riders on horsemanship, and his sword was as deadly on ground as his spear on horse. Perhaps he thought of getting a drink, refresh himself in this lovely day of mid-summer, or perhaps he feared that his horse should be fatigued, being an old horse who had been with him ever since he was a young boy. Or, it was merely by _chance_ that he rode to Snowbourn that day, without a particular reason.

Snowbourn was a small river, a horse could run over with its head above the water. It was not comparable to the Great River, but like Entwash, it has a special power to it. The spirits of those who drank the water of Snowbourn shall feel revived as if they were reborn. Elfhelm had also seen Anduin several times and had greatly admired its magnificence, but he preferred Snowbourn over all others, for beside which he grew up and from which he could feel the memories of his childhood.

When he arrived at the riverbank, he got off the horse and kneeled beside the river, washing his face with its cold water.

And it was then two horses ran pass Snowbourn and splashed water all over him.

Elfhelm felt humiliated. His cheek was red with anger. He stood up and opened his mouth to shout at the riders, but no sound came out of it.

One of the riders was a boy of his age, he skilfully wheeled his horse around to talk to the other. Elfhelm could see that this boy rides as good as himself.

But the other was a young girl in white, taller and more slender than other girls of her age. her hair was golden and glittering in the sunshine, like the river of Snowbourn he saw from afar. She turned around, her face very fair, fairer than any other Elfhelm had seen, her eyes were of the colour of the grey Sea. They were clear like the morning spring, yet cold they were, piercing like the ice of winter.

Elfhelm did not know what to do, he simply stood there, watching.

The boy saw him as he wheeled around. He immediately preceived what had came to pass, and softly called the girl. She stopped and looked at him. Elfhelm's face was still red, not because of anger but because he was blushing. He looked down and saw himself all wet, water dropped from his hair. He felt a strong urge to get away without _her_ seeing him in this condition. He turned away from her abruptly, jumping on the back of his horse and rode away as fast as he could, not daring to look back.

Éomer checked his horse when he saw the Elfhelm rode away. His escape was so fast that Éomer barely had time to have a good look at his face. The sister-son of the King sighed. He turned around, just as his sister arrived.

"He's gone?" asked Éowyn.

"Yes," said Éomer.

"I did not see his face, but he must be very angry at us, "said Éowyn, "I wonder why he ran away? I hope I shall meet him again and apologize. " She gazed at Eastfold. Beyond the green horizon a small black figure was fading away.


	2. Chapter Two: Simbemynë, the Evermind

Chapter Two: Simbemynë, the Evermind

"_At the foot of the walled hill the way ran under the shadow of many mounds, high and green. Upon their western sides the grass was hite as with a drifted snow: small flowers sprang there like countless stars amid the turf"_

--The Two Towers

Elfhelm did not see Éowyn again for many years.

He lost his parents the following year. After that he had grown to be a Rider of the Riddermark, fearless and strong. He traveled far and wide, from Fangorn to Gondor. He often came back to his home by Snowbourn, but he seldom went to Edoras and few times did he behold the splendours of the Golden Hall of Meduseld.

He served under the command of Émound of Eastfold, the Chief Marshal of Rohan whom he loved like a father. Émound liked the young man well, he often took Elfhelm with him and taught him many things. From him Elfhelm learned the history of the Rohirrim, the stories of the First Age that almost all Men had forgotten save a few.

"You are like my son Éomer, " Émound would often say to Elfhelm, "you would like him I think. Alas, when there are no more Orcs on our borders I will take you to see my family. You shall live with us."

"You are like a father to me, lord," Elfhelm often thought when he looked upon Émound's face with awe, but he never spoke to him openly.

So it came to pass that the news of an Orc raid on the eastern Anduin reached Émound's ears. As usual he would ride with his own company to war. But this time he rode with fewer riders than usual, for there was need elsewhere. He sent Elfhelm away.

"You shall be no more useful with me than staying at home, for I hear that it was a small band of Orcs. I think you should rely on me less now, I deem you ready, Elfhelm. Go swiftly and join the King's heir! There needs calls you," said Émound at their parting, "and when I come back, I want to hear you recite the whole history of Cirion and Eorl to me. "

"Lord, why should you not go with me? It is a small band of Orcs you say," said Elfhelm.

"I love Eastfold, and I would not sleep until I clear it from the dirty steps of the Orcs," said Émound. He bid Elfhelm farewell and rode away.

It was the last ride of Émound of Eastfold, the husband of Théodwyn the Fair.

Elfhelm did not receive the news until three months after Émound's burial. He took leave and rode back to Edoras as soon as he could. At dawn of the mid-autumn day he arrived.

The sun was setting behind the white mountains. At the end of the horizon the sky was painted red with its rays. Elfhelm immediately recognized Émound's tomb: it was new and little green could be seen on top of it, but nonetheless the small white flowers of _Simbemynë_ covered it like a crown. He jumped off his horse and silently stood in front of it, his heart full of sorrow and grief.

"Who are you?" a sweet voice said behind him. He turned around. It was a woman with the same fair face, grey eyes and golden hair he had seen many years ago and had never forgotten. He was very surprised, the face that he had held most sacred in his memory was there right before him. He did not know what to say, he stood there just as he did many years ago.

"I asked you a question, sir," said the young woman, "who are you that stands before my father's tomb?" Her voice was cold.

"Lord Émound was your father?" Elfhelm was again surprised.

"Yes," said the young woman.

"My daughter Éowyn is like her brother, "Elfhelm suddenly remembered that Émound had once spoken of her, "she has a wild spirit and a stubborn character, a most unfortunate inheritence of a daughter from me." Émound laughed when he said so.

"You must be Lady Éowyn then," bowed Elfhelm, "my name is Elfhelm, I once served under your father. " He turned towards the mound, "I am sorry that he is gone now. It pains me to see his tomb. " He said those words with true affection and Éowyn noticed a few drops of tears from his face. Her face softened. She quietly took a step forward and stood beside Elfhelm. She kneeled down and picked up a Simbemynë.

"They call this flower the Evermind, it grows on the dead's mounds so we would remember them, " she said with great sorrow, "Master Elfhelm, do not let grief fill your heart! Take this flower as a token, remember him well when you see it, sir! He then remains here with us, and he shall see that we have avenged his death."

Elfhelm took the flower with a trembling hand.

"Fear not, my lady!" said he, "I will remember and love your father always."

Éowyn smiled and turned away. He watched her until she disappeared from his view.

"As I do you, my lady," he muttured, kissed the Simbemynë in his hand.


End file.
